


50 Shades of Grey (Re-done)

by flovverpassion



Category: 50 Shades of Grey - E. L. James
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 14:56:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6380779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flovverpassion/pseuds/flovverpassion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new project I've thought about doing for a while. The concept is kinda fun and I thought maybe it would be nice if the writing were a little... cleaner. While I read the books cover to cover, the writing isn't quite award winning in my opinion. </p><p>College senior Anastasia Steele steps in for her sick roommate to interview prominent businessman Christian Grey for their campus paper, little does she realize the path her life will take. Christian, as enigmatic as he is rich and powerful, finds himself strangely drawn to Ana, and she to him. Though sexually inexperienced, Ana plunges headlong into an affair -- and learns that Christian's true sexual proclivities push the boundaries of pain and pleasure.</p><p>(edited film summary)</p>
            </blockquote>





	50 Shades of Grey (Re-done)

A million things are racing through my mind. Exams are next week, and I should be studying, but my roommate coaxed me into an interview with someone I know nothing about who's probably the most important person I'll ever be in the presence of, and my damn hair can't even cooperate and make my life a little easier. I brush my hair furiously as I trot back over to the mirror to see if it's become even slightly presentable. I gaze at the brunette with blue eyes that are too big for her face and scraggly hair. I sigh and pull my hair into a ponytail in exasperation. 

My roommate is Kate, or Katherine, Kavanagh. She's had the flu for a few days now, and this is exceptional timing because this weekend happened to be when she'd arranged an interview with some industrialist tycoon that I've never heard about for the school newspaper. I volunteered, but that doesn't change the studying I have to do, the essay I have to finish, and having work later in the afternoon. Instead, I'm going to drive 65 miles to Seattle to meet the CEO of Grey Enterprises Holding Inc. He is a major benefactor for the school, and his time is very precious yet he has arranged an interview with Kate. 

"Ana... I'm sorry," she rasps, curled up on the living room couch. "This took nine months to schedule... I can't... reschedule," she says, pausing to wince in pain from talking. Even hearing this sickly voice and seeing her so ill she still looks gorgeous. Strawberry blonde hair tousled about, bright green, pleading eyes, although now with severe bags and redness. 

"It's alright Kate I understand. You need to get back to bed and take something. Tylenol or Nyquil?" I ask as I look through the cabinet. 

"Nyquil please," she replies. I grab the box and pour her a glass of water. I walk over and hand her the pills and the glass, and as she sips she pushes a neatly stapled document and a mini-disc recorder across the coffee table. "Just press record and take notes under that list of questions. I'll transcribe it later," she demands as she sets down the glass and snuggles deeper in her blanket. 

"Hardly know anything about him," I mutter to myself as I flip through the packet.

"Those questions will get you through. Just... stick to them and don't put any words in his mouth," she says, getting more used to the talking with a sore throat. 

"Okay I'm heading out. I made soup and put it in the fridge. Just heat it up for like 45 seconds and it should be good to go," I say, looking at her eyes. I realize that I have a worried frown upon my face, the kind a mother would have upon looking at her sick child. Only for you would I do something like this, Kate. How she talked me into this I'll never know. She'll be a great journalist, articulate, strong, persuasive, argumentative, and not to mention beautiful. I give her a solemn smile and turn and walk to the door grabbing my purse on my way out, and I hear her yell, very weakly, good luck to me.

On the drive out all I can think about is messing this up for Kate. I know she wouldn't kill me, but I promised her, and I'm a woman of my word. Each question on the list in Kate's spiral notebook has about five lines of room under them. What if I don't write enough? What if I write too much? I'm more into research involving books and articles, not fancy businessmen that I know next to nothing about. 

I arrive at 1:45, and the meeting is at two. Im relieved that I'm not late, but anxious that I'm too early. The building is a piece of artwork it seems like. All steel and glass from the outside, and 20 stories high, with "GREY HOUSE" written in sleek, modern, steel letters on the front door. At least now I know he has good taste.

When I walk into the lobby, a beautiful blonde woman greets me. She looks groomed to perfection, not a hair out of place, and her charcoal jacket without a wrinkle. 

"Hi I'm here to see Mr. Grey. I'm Anastasia Steele for Katherine Kavanagh," 

"One moment, Ms. Steele," she says as she seems to glance at me up and down quickly. I know in her presence that I look like a high school student, but at least I'll be comfortable. She sits like there's a stick up her butt.

"Ms. Kavanagh is expected. Please sign in here, Ms. Steele. You’ll want the last elevator on the right, press for the twentieth floor." She gives me a flashy smile, no doubt mocking me in her own mind.

I'm handed a visitor pass, and as I walk to the elevators, two men in pressed black suits are stationed among the wealth of elevators. 

I'm whisked up to the top floor with extreme efficiency, almost to the point that I believe I'm still on the first floor when the doors part. I see another identical desk to the one in the lobby, and another young blonde woman. The only difference is seeing the trees outside of the barrier of glass hundreds of feet below us. 

The young blonde points to a large white, leather sofa. "Could you wait there for a moment, Ms. Steele?" I nod, and make my way over. As I sit down, my heart leaps as I realize I didn't throw a pen into my bag. I rip the notepad out of my bag and in the spiral is a simple pen from a hotel Kate and I stay at when we go to the beach. My heart settles as I realize that Kate is always two steps ahead of everyone else.


End file.
